


Ray isn't Allowed to Choose the Movie Anymore

by CanuckChicklette



Series: Birthday Fics for Billa [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanuckChicklette/pseuds/CanuckChicklette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Thursday night, Ray and Walt have movie night. Every Friday night, the boys gather in the local bar. Brad doesn't like the result on Friday after Ray's been allowed to pick the movie that week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ray isn't Allowed to Choose the Movie Anymore

“So kiss and smile for me/ tell me that you’ll wait for me/ hold me like you’ll never let me go!”

“RAY! NOT IN PUBLIC!”

The red vinyl booth was an array of conflicting emotions. Ray rested his head against Walt, to whom he was crooning ridiculous astronaut love songs. In response, Walt just shook his head apologetically across the table. It didn’t do much to help Brad’s mood. He’d heard more than enough of Ray’s loud, off-key singing in OIF. His face was stern and conveyed waves of distain around the booth. The mood was balanced by Nate who was sitting on Brad’s left, using every bit of will he had trying not to laugh. 

“I’m sorry Brad,” Walt apologized verbally. “We had a movie last night. I foolishly let Ray pick the movie.”

Ray quickly lifted his head to look at Walt. “You loved it,” he said, swooping to plant a quick kiss on Walt’s cheek. “It had strippers, explosions, singing, romance and Bruce Willis. You can’t get much better in a movie... Unless it had Harrison Ford in it.”

“I don’t care who’s in it Ray,” Brad argued. “Just don’t sing out loud, where people can hear you.”

Ray promptly wrapped his arms around Walt’s shoulders, and brought one of legs across his partner’s lap. “But I’m just expressing my love, Brad. What’s so wrong with that?”

With that, Ray began placing kisses up and down Walt’s neck. Walt didn’t go to stop him, he just smiled and looked down at the table coyly. He knew Ray, and this was really tame for him. With the exception of the occasional lick or nip of his earlobe, it was fairly innocent. But it still elicited a response from Brad.

“RAY! You can’t do _that_ in public either!”

_Thud._

Nate, seemingly forgotten amongst his friends, couldn’t take it anymore. He fell out of booth, unable to contain his laughter any more. 

All eyes were on their booth. Some of the regulars looked on with amusement, finding it a little endearing.  
It would be a lie to say this wasn't a regular occurrence. Every Friday night, after everyone had finished with work, the four of them congregated in the back booth of Chaser's Bar. They always ordered a round of beer, that would soon turn into another, and then another, until Ray decided he wanted a buzz and harder liquors came out. There was also usually an assortment of finger food strewn across the table. French fries, mozzarella sticks, chicken wings - lots of chicken wings- and sometimes fajitas. 

The rate at which it took for the table to get to this point of chaos, however, was surprisingly quick. Ray wasn't usually all over Walt or singing karaoke until his third shot, and Nate falling over himself was usually the sign that it was time to leave. But they had only just ordered their second round of beers, and their first round of food. The bartender, a young, dark haired man with a physique to rival Rudy's, looked on in slight alarm. He was already afraid of what it would be like one they got more alcohol in them. 

Walt blushed. He didn't like being the centre of attention, especially for Ray's very forward, unashamed displays of affection. He pulled Ray's leg back to his side of the bench and immediately dropped his gaze to the table.

Ray grinned. "See, look what you two fuckheads have done. Thanks to Blue Steel-" he motioned to Brad "- and Chuckles McGee over here, I've just been cockblocked by my own boyfriend."

Nate carefully crawled back up into the booth, his laughing having finally subsided. "Please, Ray. You weren't going to get any in the bar anyways. Especially not after your ungodly caterwauling." 

“Yes, Ray,” Brad pleaded, “leave your singing where it belongs – in the shower and in the Humvee making our way across the barren desert.”

“I will have you know,” Ray defended himself. “That Walt loves my singing. Especially when I serenade him with hopelessly romantic songs. Right, babe?”

Walt really didn’t want to have to answer that honestly. He quickly picked up his glass, and tried to see how much beer he could swallow in one go. He found Ray’s constant crooning endearing, and understood that it made up a very large part of who he was – and why Walt loved him. But he honestly couldn’t say he was fond of Ray’s voice.  
To thirds of the glass empty, Walt had to come up for air. Everyone in the booth (and some of the people from around the bar) stared at him waiting for a response. He went red again and made an incoherent sound as he reached across the table for a chicken wing. Ray evidently took it as an affirmation as a second later, he forcefully pressed his lips against Walt’s cheek before turning back to Brad and Nate.

“See. I told you. He can’t resist when I get romantically musical and shit,” Ray concluded with a grin.


End file.
